


It's cold outside

by ottertrashpalace



Series: I guess we're calling it Crewt [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddling, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Fluff, Hugs for Credence, Hurt/Comfort, In which i tactfully ignore graves, M/M, Nightmares, credence gets some hugs, he just really doesn't need that right now, jesus christ he needs hugs, kinda angsty i guess, no offense buddy, when do i ever write angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace
Summary: Credence is far from dead, and Newt finds him shivering in the middle of a winter storm. He takes him home, and they start to put things back together.





	1. First Steps

Winters are not pleasant in New York. The snow and sleet that pounded agains Credence’s narrow frame, however, did little to deter him as he pressed onwards. After the train station, he hadn’t really felt much at all. 

To be fair, there hadn’t been much of _him_ anyway. Just a few wisps of dusty shadow. He had drifted around in the wind for quite some time, until he started to feel tired and… slept? 

He woke up curled up in an alley, back in his old gawky body. As he rose, shivering, he realized that he was aching all over, worse than he ever had before. Credence had felt some awful pain—the belt on his back, his hands—but this, this was different. His very bones seemed to throb.

_I must go somewhere,_ he thought suddenly. _Ma’s gonna b—_

He flinched. His Ma wouldn’t be doing much of anything now.

He was walking. This wasn’t an area of the city that he recognized, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to be back in the part that he did know. There were three-story buildings to each side, and a narrow sidewalk. He had no idea where he was going, but thinking about it terrified him: Graves had betrayed him, Ma was dead, his sisters would never want him— that woman from the station, whom he’d met once before (Tina?) seemed like she might not even be real.

Not to mention the darkness. It had mostly gone, but he knew that some of it remained, or he would never have woken up. He could never let himself explode like that again, he knew, after all of the destruction that had come of his rampage. 

_Cursed, devil child! You’re letting him win, Credence. This is your fault. Take responsibility for your filthy wickedness._

His hand went numbly to his belt, and then shuddered and dropped back to his side. He would find somewhere dry, he decided, and sleep there. Whether or not he woke up seemed of little consequence.

And then, a man appeared on the sidewalk. He hadn’t been there a second before, Credence was sure of it. For someone walking in the middle of a vicious winter storm, he seemed awfully  _dry—_ his blue overcoat didn’t have so much as a spot. 

The figure started towards Credence. Alarmed, Credence shrank towards a set of stairs, blending into a background as he’d done so many times. The man in blue didn’t seem fooled, though. He grew closer still, and Credence curled further downwards, making himself a smaller target.

“Credence? I’m not going too hurt you. I just want to talk. Do you remember me?”

Credence forced himself to look up. The man had a small smile, and reddish hair everywhere. 

“My name is Newt Scamander, Credence. I’m a friend of Tina’s. We’ve met.”

Credence felt paralyzed. He did recognize this man, from the station… he wondered if he should take the opportunity to run. Wondered if he was capable of running. The man didn’t seem threatening in the least, and he wasn’t holding his wand. Credence met his eyes for the first time, and remembered him twitching on the tracks at the station. He had been trying to help. 

“Credence…” he said softly, reaching out. “Let me help you. Take my hand, and I’ll take you back to Tina’s flat.”

“I can’t, sir” Credence croaked, “After… I’m a monster.”

Newt crouched down, staring at Credence with earnest intensity. “You’re not a monster, Credence. None of it was your fault. If anything, it was mine… Now, please, the weather’s horrible, and I think Tina and Queenie are rather anxious to have the both of us dry and warm.”

Credence lowered his gaze, and extended a trembling hand. Newt clasped it gently, and they were both swept into a breathtaking darkness. 


	2. Mooncalves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it back to the Goldstein's, and Credence can't sleep.

The boy’s hand was freezing cold, and Newt could hardly feel his pulse. He only hoped that he hadn’t come too late, and that Credence would live to make it past this. Newt had never known an Obscurial case like this one, but he intended to do all he could to figure it out. Tina was just getting him settled in at the moment, though Newt suspected he would soon be asleep. 

Sure enough, Tina emerged from the room, her face drawn but somewhat satisfied.

“He’s asleep. I’m not too sure what’s wrong with him, but all the first-aid magic I learned in Auror training was useless.”

Newt nodded, and glanced over at Queenie. She was sitting on the lounge, rubbing her temples. She noticed that both Newt and her sister were staring at her, and sighed. 

“It’s the boy.” She explained, as if the other two hadn’t gathered as much. “The pour soul…”

"Well, he's a sleeping now," Tina said quietly. "we should call it a night, I guess, and see what happens in the morning."

Newt settled down on their couch, and slept for a few light hours, only to be woken by something thumping on the wall. He leapt to his feet, wand in hand, and realized that the disturbance was coming from the next room. He cautiously opened the door, only to find the boy still asleep, but thrashing. A nightmare, then.

Newt circled around towards the bed, trying to decide what to do. He knew that when he used to get nightmares, Leta would shake him awake and tell him to shake it off. _Sleep in the guest room if you'll be thrashing around like that, honestly!_  Credence wouldn’t likely react well to that, he reasoned, and instead started simply by saying his name.

“Credence!” 

No response. Reluctantly, he edged towards the boy’s sweaty form and put a hand lightly on his shoulder. 

“Credence…”

He jolted awake, pulling away from Newt’s hand in an instant and huddling against the wall. 

“You’re alright, Credence, we’re in Tina and Queen’s flat, no one’s going to hurt you.” He rambled as though Credence were one of his creatures, understanding not his words but his tone. He suspected that the words alone didn’t mean much to Credence in that moment, either. The boy did seem to be calming down, though, gradually. His breaths were still shaky, but not quite so fast. 

“Do you know where you are, Credence?” Newt asked gently.

Credence nodded. “Ms. G-Goldstein's.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“N-newt.”

Newt nodded. There was a short silence, punctuated only by Credence’s receding gasps.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He you asked, pushing a little.

Credence’s eyes widened, and he looked terrified. Newt wasn’t particularly good at people, but he wasn't an asshole. “It’s alright, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Credence shook his head, looking down. Newt started to feel uncomfortable, as he usually did past the three-minute point talking to someone he didn’t know. He needed to do this, though, at least for Credence’s sake. The poor thing was still shaking, there was no way that he would be going back to sleep anytime soon.

“Credence,” Newt began suddenly, struck by inspiration, “do you want to see my magical creatures? They’re all very nice, and they, erm, live in my suitcase. Might take your mind off things.”

Credence stared at him for a few seconds. Newt began to wonder if he’d sold the idea badly. At any rate, it was too late now. To his surprise, the boy nodded. 

Newt jumped up. “Be right back.” 

He returned promptly with his suitcase, and popped it open on the bed. He climbed most of the way in, and motioned for Credence to follow him. As he reached the shed, he could hear the tentative steps that meant that he had obliged.

“Come along, then, I think we ought to feed the mooncalves.”

Newt checked over his shoulder. The boy was picking his way through the shed with the utmost caution, torn between curiosity and fear. He was still shivering. 

“Here,” Newt said, “Take my coat.” He held out his blue overcoat, which stayed on a hook in the trunk at night. Credence put it on carefully. Once they were out of the shed, his eyes went as wide as saucers. He was still quiet, but at least Newt felt confident that this was a sufficient distraction. 

He made his way over to the mooncalves, who were as docile as always. Amelia was particularly affectionate, and bumped up against Newt’s side until he scratched her neck. Credence was standing off at a distance, staring in awe. 

“Come on, then,” Newt beckoned. “They get startled if you move too fast, but they’re awfully sweet.”

Credence gradually moved up towards where Newt and Amelia were standing. She hesitated slightly, but appeared to decide quickly that he was very much not a threat. She trotted up next to him, neck outstretched expectantly. Credence glanced at Newt questioningly, and Newt nodded. He stroked her neck lightly, and she had won him over in no time.

“What are these?” Credence whispered hoarsely.

“Mooncalves,” Newt replied, “very shy, and they’re a little uncommon because their dances are supposed to have magical effects, and they only come out on the full moon. I moved this herd in here so they wouldn't be hunted down by a bunch of frightened Muggles. Oh, and her name is Amelia.”

Credence nodded, and turned towards the mooncalf, murmuring her name. Newt might have been imagining it, but he thought he saw the slightest hint of a smile.

“I think I’ll go check on the Occamy chicks, see how Mum is settling back in—“

Newt stopped short when he saw Credence sway dangerously, his eyes drooping. Without thinking too hard about it, he grabbed Credence’s shoulders and held him upright. Predictably, the boy flinched and went stiff as a board. He was almost too preoccupied to notice Amelia and the others pawing gently at the ground, beginning their dance.

“Sorry… I suppose we should go back too bed.” Newt murmured.

“No— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Credence panicked.

“It’s alright, I promise. We can come back if you like, but you look like you’re about to faint.”

Carefully, Newt put one arm around Credence’s shoulders and steered the woozy boy back towards the shed. It took a bit of maneuvering, but they made it up the ladder in the end. For once, Newt could see everything written on Credence’s hollow face; his exhaustion, his grief, his fear. He laid the boy on his bed, and pulled the blanket over him.

“Goodnight, Credence,” he said softly.

Credence didn’t immediately respond, but as Newt began to leave the room, he heard shuffling behind him. Credence had moved over, leaving some room on his bed.

“Would you…?”

Newt glanced to the bed, and then Credence, surprised. Why would the boy want him to stay?

“Certainly, if you like,” he replied. He perched on the bed and leaned back slightly against the headboard. Credence seemed to relax a bit. This was good, then. Newt couldn’t resist, and he reached out to card his fingers through Credence’s ragged hair. Initially, he stiffened, but within seconds, he began to lean into the touch, his eyes drooping again. 

“Go to sleep,” Newt implored softly. 

And so they lay, together, until morning came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. hope you're still enjoying this. I'm going back and editing at the moment because I think Credence might be a little ooc, so don't be bothered if there are some small changes. kudos+comments feed my children, water my lawn


	3. Sometimes, talking helps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things continue to be talked out and dealt with. Also those hugs that I promised.

It was morning soon enough. Credence woke up as soon as the sun came through the window, as he always had. He startled for a moment when he noticed Newt, but not so hard that he woke him up. Newt was slumped at an odd angle against the headboard, and his mouth was half-open, almost snoring. The sun hit his hair in a particular way, and it almost seemed to glow.

The room that surrounded him was oddly colorful. It certainly separated itself from the old house, with the doilies on the bedside table and the pale watercolors on the walls. The sheets were smooth, and the blankets were soft between his fingers.

He needed to get up, he knew— he would be outstaying his welcome by now— but he couldn’t bring himself to bother Newt. He’d woken the man up in the middle of the night, it would be cruel of Credence to bother him up again.

Just as he was starting to move around Newt’s sleeping form, it shifted a little. Credence froze. Newt’s eyes were open.

“I—I’m sorry, you should go back to sleep—“

“It’s quite alright, Credence,” he said, yawning. “What time is it…?” He squinted out the window. “Merlin, it can’t be past seven… _you_ ought to go back to sleep.” 

Credence watched helplessly as Newt got up and rummaged through his case, which looked like it was full of clothes now. Credence had given up trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“I must go,” he said, dragging himself to his feet despite the pain. Newt stepped swiftly to his side, hands on his shoulders. Credence stumbled backwards, but the hands weren’t pushing, just steadying. They were warm.

“Credence…” Newt caught his gaze. “You don’t have to leave now, nor will you ever. You’re welcome here for as long as you like, provided you’re decent to the girls and me. We don’t want anything from you, we just want you to be safe and get well. I might be able to help you…”

Credence felt his legs give out and he collapsed onto the bed. Tears were wobbling dangerously behind his eyes.

“I can’t… I’m c-cursed, I might hurt someone…” He mumbled, trying desperately not to cry. 

Newt crouched down in front of him. “You’re not cursed. The dark thing inside you is called an Obscurus. It’s a parasitical magic force that builds up when a witch or wizard represses their magical abilities.”

“I’m not—a wizard! I’m a—a Squib, that’s what he said, that’s what he told me—“ Credence was rocking back and forth on his haunches, his knuckles white from clutching his legs.

“Credence…” Newt said softly, reaching up to brush the boy’s hair out of his face. “You’re not a squib. In fact, you might be the most powerful wizard I’ve ever met.”

Credence looked up at him, searching for something, anything really. Even after Graves, even after Second Salem, he still sought the validation that the discovery of magic had promised to bring him. 

“Most Obscurials die before the age of ten or eleven. I’ve only ever met one girl who was like you, and she died when she was eight. Her Obscurus killed her. You, though, have figured out how to live with it, even control it to an extent. That takes a powerful amount of magic.”

Credence was trembling again. The darkness was edging in on his vision, mixing with his tears, and making everything blurry. He fought it as best he could—he couldn’t do this to these nice people, who had done everything for him that he hadn’t deserved.

_Wicked, wicked boy! Satan is in you still!_

His thoughts were cut short when Newt’s arms surrounded him, warm and soft. Credence found himself surrounded by a gentle, grounded scent, like fresh earth and leather. He could hear Newt’s heart thumping soundly in his chest, and he _sagged_. His entire body seemed to melt into Newt’s strong embrace, and tears flooded freely down his cheeks. The darkness had absconded.

“There, Credence, you're going to be all right. Let it out.” Newt murmured. 

Credence had never cried this much, not even when Ma had come at him with a switch after he'd missed curfew. He didn’t know why he allowed himself to now, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop. Newt’s hand was rubbing slow circles on his back, spreading warmth on Credence’s skin like a salve. Eventually, the tears subsided, and Credence slumped away from Newt slightly. What had he ever done to deserve this much kindness?

“I’ll stay, if you’d like.” Newt said after a while. “You still need to sleep.”

“I c-can’t ask—“

“Would it help?” Newt cut him off gently.

Credence looked down, and nodded. The bed shifted next to him, and suddenly two strong hands were easing him back onto the pillow, as though he weighed less than a feather. Newt reached over to close the curtains, and then settled back into the bed. There was a hand in Credence’s hair, and suddenly all he was being yanked, legs limply smacking the wooden steps, his hands numbly working at the buckle on his belt—

“Credence? Credence? Are you still here? I’m sorry,” 

Credence realized that he was on the floor, his back against the wall, arms curled around his knees. Newt was—yes, right in front of him. Oh.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—“ He stuttered as he tried to get to his feet.

“No, please, that wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” said Newt as he guided Credence carefully back on to the bed. “I—last night, I thought you didn’t mind. You must have been asleep. It was my fault.”

“I just…” Credence shivered. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to tell Newt this. “She used to—take me by the hair, and drag me upstairs…” He couldn’t continue.

Newt didn’t react, not like Credence had expected. He didn’t laugh, or snort with disgust. He just kept staring, with those intense, electric blue eyes. 

“I’m so sorry she did that to you,” he said softly.

“I deserved it,” Credence told him. “I was bad.”

“Credence… no one ever deserves that. Least of all you.”

Credence didn’t know what to say. _Possessed, wicked child! Spawn of the devil! himself!_

He was almost close to crying again. Instead, he gave in to his exhaustion and laid down again.

“Do you want some water?” Newt asked him. He nodded. Newt took out his wand, and made a glass appear. He filled it with a fountain of water that sprang from nowhere.

“Go on, then. It’s safe.” Newt said as Credence contemplated the cup gingerly. He drank a bit, and it tasted just fine. Cleaner than what he was used to, definitely.

“Should I stay, still?” asked Newt, “I swear I won’t touch your head again.”

Credence nodded quickly. Newt still frightened him a little, but he didn’t want to be alone. Then, he felt warm arms around him,and any qualms he’d been harboring were gone. He fell asleep in an instant.


	4. Look out your window at the storm

Newt was starting to feel something in his heart that hadn’t been there in a while. He had stayed with Credence while the boy slept, though he wasn’t very sleepy anymore himself, and just sitting there he found himself feeling awfully content. He was taking the time to read through his notebook, which was almost complete. He only needed to take one short trip to Southeast Asia and he’d likely be finished. It frightened him to realize that he’d soon have to send it off to the publishers in London. It almost seemed like a child to him, the son or daughter he’d likely never have. He’d never been the best with his essays in school, but he wanted to make sure that the manuscript was at least legible (no small task, considering the abysmal quality of his handwriting).  
Around eight thirty, Tina poked her head into the room.  
“Newt?” She whispered, confused. “What are you…?”  
“Seems to help him sleep,” Newt whispered back. Tina’s face softened a little. “There’s some of Jacob’s rolls out for breakfast when he wakes up.”  
Newt just nodded “Queenie?” He mouthed.  
“Out,” she said with a shake of her head. They had the flat to themselves, then.  
He smiled a thank you as she hurried off to work. Newt let his head rest back against the bed frame and felt strangely at ease. He was the sort of person who was prone to wanderlust, and really, he’d lived with it all his life. Moments like these, when he didn’t feel that tug at his heart, were rare.  
Credence started to stir maybe an hour later, when the sun was all the way up and the shadows on the street were short. He woke up with a jolt, startling Newt out of his editing.  
“Credence?”  
“N-newt,” The boy said, looking like he was sorting through things in his head.  
“Are you feeling any better?” Newt asked.  
No response.  
“Hungry?”  
Credence nodded sharply. This, at least, Newt could manage.  
“Come on then, why don’t you put on a change of—ah—“ Newt glanced around, and realized that Credence didn’t have other clothes. He flipped open his case to the muggle part, and pulled out some trousers and a shirt. “These should fit you decently, you’re not too much taller than me. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”  
He left Credence to change and rummaged around in the kitchen, putting together some coffee and eggs to go with Jacob’s excellent rolls. Household-y spells had never been his forte, but living on his own had taught him a few of the essentials.  
Credence padded hesitantly into the kitchen a few minutes later.  
“Why don’t you sit down?” Newt called over his shoulder, still busy cooking. He heard one of the chairs being slowly shifted back, and then in again. Credence was almost eerily quiet, and it unsettled Newt a little bit. He shook it off, though, and set a plate down on the table for each of them. Credence’s eyes widened at the sight of all the food, and Newt’s heart clenched a little bit.  
“You should eat, you must be famished.” He said, if only to fill the silence. “We can talk, after, if you want. You must have questions.”  
They ate in silence. Credence chewed very slowly, but he did finish most of what was on his plate  
“You don’t have to eat all of it,” Newt said suddenly, quite aware that he was the only one who’d said anything the whole meal, “It’s a lot of food.”  
This seemed to startle Credence. “I—I should finish.” He said quickly, and started to shovel more eggs into his mouth.  
“Really, it’s all right. We can save it.” Newt was kicking himself. He had no business putting such a large, rich meal in front of a boy who had probably been living off of gruel and God knows what else for most of his life, not to mention with what Tina had told him about the strict mother.  
Credence’s breath hitched, but he set the fork down with a shaking hand.  
“Well… is there anything you want to ask me, right off the bat?” Newt asked, businesslike.  
Credence was still for a few moments. “Why?”  
Newt stared at him blankly.  
“Why… me? Why are you doing all this? For me?”  
The question damn near broke Newt’s heart. How to even begin to answer it?  
“We’re doing this for you because it’s right, Credence. You’ve had an awful time of it and we want to help fix that.”  
“I killed people,” said Credence with painful candor, like he’d said that to himself a million times. “I could hurt you.”  
“I don’t think you’d hurt me,” Newt said carefully, “Or Tina or Queenie or Jacob, and certainly not on purpose. Accidents happen, but that’s never your fault.”  
Credence was silent. Newt wondered if he’d pushed too much.  
“You trust me,” Credence said finally, like he was testing the idea out.  
“Yes.”  
He fell silent again. Suddenly, it was all a little too much for Newt. He regretted it terribly, but this was exactly the part of him that had kept him from making friends at Hogwarts. He could feel the emotional tension of the situation rolling at him in waves, a situation he'd never known how to deal with.  
“I— I need to see to my creatures, I think my Dugbog might have gotten into the shed.” He mumbled, getting up and charming the dirty plates into the sink. “I’m going to leave the case open, you can come down anytime you like.”  
Newt rushed off and quickly clambered into the case. He had no idea what had gotten into him, he usually wasn’t that abrupt. There was something about Credence that just seemed to make his heart beat faster than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll be making this into a series, but i'm going to stop this installment here. more coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have surprisingly little shame in writing this completely selfish emotional porn. Hope ya liked it. Comment and kudos for more pointless feel good h/c bullshit


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